


Comfort

by echomoon



Series: tumblr drabbles [5]
Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-04-23 02:43:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14322819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/echomoon/pseuds/echomoon
Summary: A post world in the walls comfort fic





	Comfort

**Author's Note:**

> dedicated to SOMEONE in FTB, i cant remember who, and shoutout to WildeBones for betaing.

Once the crowd clears out of the living room, Quentin lays further down on the couch. Everything from his chest up aches, sore from the Matarese burrowing its way into him. Even the scotch Eliot keeps handing him isn’t helping.

“What do you want to do, Q?” Eliot asks from behind him, one hand on his shoulder while the other refills his glass for the third time.

“What do you mean?” Quentin replies, suddenly realizing that Eliot had been talking for a while. His head hurts too much to think.

Eliot makes a clicking noise, and walks around the couch to sit next to him. “Do you want to stay down here, or go to your room? You need rest.”

“Oh. Upstairs, I guess.” Quentin rubs his eyes.

Eliot helps him up, wraps an arm around his waist to help him move. Eliot’s touch is warm and comforting after the bleak, contactless mental hospital. Thinking about it makes him shudder; Eliot tightens his grip in response.

When they reach his room, Eliot sets him on the bed. Quentin sits on the edge, hunched over a bit, rubbing his chest; Eliot stands still in front of him, his hands hovering close, as if he’s afraid to reach out again. After a minute, Quentin grabs Eliot’s hand and sighs. He leans forward to rest his head against Eliot’s body, not wanting to lose his touch.

“Want me to stay?” Eliot asks, fondness in his voice.

“Please.” Quentin replies, relieved at not having to ask.

Eliot nods. He removes a few layers and bends down to take off Quentin’s shoes. When he’s done, Quentin slides over to give him space to climb onto the bed.

Quentin would be fine with just having Eliot next to him, the presence of a warm body that close enough for him after the isolation. But once Eliot is laying down, he pulls him close, lets Quentin settle half on top of him, and it’s so much better than Quentin had hoped for.

“Thank you.” Quentin mumbles into Eliot’s chest, soothed.

“Of course, Q.”


End file.
